Real Girl
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: When Chihiro met Mukuro, it was a Monday.


When Chihiro met Mukuro, it was a Monday.

It wasn't a Monday that was any different from any of the past Mondays. Chihiro's normal route home was interrupted, like always. Interrupted by the tall, sneering boys chanting things like _not a real girl_, and _you fucking sissy can't you fight back?_ And Chihiro cried, biting down on her lower lip and pretending she was a princess whose prince would come for her some day and fight the demons all around her. Just like always.

But then they stopped.

It was sudden, one moment they were kicking at her and one had her bag in his hands, and then the next moment her bag was dropped and the yelling and taunting just ceased. Chihiro peered out through her fingers at the cause of her attackers' unrest, and was met with another girl's icy cold stare.

She was tall and muscular, dressed in a drab, dark school uniform that looked about fifty years outdated. Bandages covered her knees and her calves looked like they'd taken a bit of a beating. The unknown girl did a precise about face and promptly kicked one of her abusers between his legs. Needless to say, Chihiro squeezed her eyes shut and the only indications she had of what the girl was doing to the boys were loud thump noises.

"You can come out now." The voice wasn't the flat, disciplined tone Chihiro had expected. Her voice was soft and almost guttural. Chihiro slowly uncurled from her scared animal-esque position, getting a full look at the girl in front of her. "I'm Ikusaba Mukuro. I'll be walking you home from now on." Despite the softness in her voice, Chihiro heard an unnerving edge in it.

And lo and behold, the next morning, Ikusaba Mukuro was in front of her door. Chihiro felt a blush start to rise on her cheeks, and nervously said a hello.

"Hello, Fujisaki-chan." She didn't use -kun, Chihiro thought to herself. I thought she'd use -kun. Everyone does.

"T-thank you for. Uh. What you did," Chihiro said lamely, feeling her blush deepen.

"It was nothing. About...what they were saying to you," Mukuro began, and Chihiro could feel her heart sinking. She'd ask _are you a real girl_ and Chihiro would look down and say _no, I'm not, I'm sorry_, and the shame would come back the way it always did. But Mukuro was smiling, a smile that reminded Chihiro of the crooked Sharpie smiles she'd drawn on her folders in fifth grade. It wasn't quite straight and it certainly wasn't perfect, but it was comforting.

"My sister's a model," Mukuro continued. "She grows out of a lot of clothes. I believe I have some things that would potentially fit you, Fujisaki-chan." Her smile was still there, and Chihiro stopped straight in her tracks.

"Y-you mean that?"

"I'm a soldier. Soldiers don't say things they don't mean." The statement sounded gruff, but Chihiro could see a spark of compassion in Mukuro's cold, grey blue eyes.

When Mukuro took Chihiro to her house after school, Chihiro couldn't help but notice how quiet it is. None of the lights were on and dust covered every surface. "You...don't clean much...do you?"

Mukuro laughed. "No, not really. My sister's never really here." She glanced over at the thousands of photographs on the walls. "At least, not in person. I'll go get some clothes. You can look at the photos if you liked.

Chihiro stared up at the photographs. Mukuro was unseen in most of them. The majority seemed to be of a tall, well-built girl, with curves in all the right places and long, perfectly tied blond pigtails. A real girl. She was smiling, not a touch of guilt or sadness behind any of the smiles.

Mukuro tapped her shoulder. "Fujisaki-chan, how do these look?"

"You're more beautiful than she is."

The thought was out before Chihiro could stop it, and she immediately covered her mouth. Mukuro stared at her for a moment, open-mouthed, and then dropped the pile of clothes she was holding. Before Chihiro had a chance to react, Mukuro had wrapped her arms around her tiny frame. There were no words accompanied with the embrace, but Chihiro could hear the soldier's heartbeat going a mile a minute.

"I'll protect you, Fujisaki-chan. You don't deserve any of what they say about you." Her voice was softer, somehow more vulnerable despite the bandages on her legs and her perpetually unchanging expression.

A feeling had started rising from Chihiro's chest and into her throat, and she couldn't quite place what it was. It was soft and gentle and quiet, but somehow it still it held the strength of a thousand armies inside of it. Suddenly the word for it hit her.

For the first time, Fujisaki Chihiro felt like a real, honest to god _girl. _

* * *

**written for queerchihiro on tumblr. do not bs me about trans chihiro. i dont own dangan ronpa. **


End file.
